NATURES REALM. 
Wore, Th: 
APRIL, 1891. 
No. 4. 
IN THE APRIL WOODS. 
By Samuect G. McCuure. 
To most persons the woods are much less 
-attractive in April than later in the spring or 
early in the summer. The ground is damp 
and the chill of winter yet lingers in the wind. 
The charm of foliage and flower that glorifies 
June is lacking, and it is yet too early for all 
those delicate shadings of color in the young 
leaves, those varying tints of green and pink 
that in a few weeks will freshen and beautify 
ithe now bare branches. The casual rambler 
misses the play of light and shadow through 
the summer leaves, and is apt to think the 
woods almost as deserted and cheerless as in 
January. 
But to one who knows some of the secrets of 
these early days there is entertainment and 
pleasure of a rare kind in the April woods. 
‘The sharp wind may chill and yet seem only a 
‘sauce to give relish to the pleasures ofa ramble. 
‘The student of Nature finds abundant compen- 
sation for all discomforts in the surprises that 
meet him, in the suggestions that come from 
every bud and half-blown blossom. On every 
side are beginnings and growth, and in watch- 
ing them is a delight as keen as any a ramble 
later in the season can give. The unfolding of 
the leaf bud of any common shrub has in it a 
mystery deep as life itself, and may well sug- 
gest “thoughts that do often lie too deep for 
tears.” The faint buzz of the bees in the 
maple tops that may be heard early in the 
month, or more commonly in March, and the 
whisperings of the budding branches in the 
‘Spring wind, seemingly in a gentler and more 
confiding tone than when stirred by the sharper 
airs of winter, is a music as acceptable as any 
that ever rises from ‘‘God’s first temples.” By 
an upland brook or spring may be found the 
pussy willows shaking their full-blown, yellow- 
ish catkins in the wind, and the true lover of 
the woods will not fail'to gather a handful of 
them and browse over them and revel in the 
subtle, woodsy fragrance that adds so greatly 
to their charm. 
Everywhere leaf buds are bursting and tiny 
shoots, so delicately green, are pushing forth. 
The scales that bound them in and protected 
them have been pushed aside and are becoming 
dry and dead. Their workisdone. Presently 
they will be loosening in the wind and sifting 
down on the dead leaves, falling into nothing- 
ness with last year’s foliage. Even in spring 
the story of Nature’s completeness, as well as 
her inexorable law of progress and the survival 
of the useful, finds expression in her acts, and 
is repeated in some form day atter day. What 
a study the simple unfolding of a bunch of 
leaves is? Pluck a twig from the maple or elm 
or beech, and note the tufty beauty of the early 
shoots, the difference between their manners of 
opening, and the wondrous way in which all 
the form and fashion of those leaves were 
packed in that one swelling leaf bud only a 
week ago! Of all the many mysteries about 
us few are greater than the germination of a 
bud in spring time. What forces unite to push 
forth the leaf and fashion the flower? Whence 
comes the vital principle that controls it all ? 
What unfathomed secrets of life are hidden ir 
the shaggy tree trunks by which one takes on 
the foliage of an elm and the other of an oak 
each spring? Unanswered questions deep as 
life ! 
The young elm leaves show the serratio 
